Revenge Syndrome
by RECordSync
Summary: Harry Potter is just a persona he obtained without knowledge, and when he discovers his true heritage, the heir of Lestrange will crush all in his path. Will contain Slash.
1. Switch and Kill

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_ as it belongs to J.K. Rowling. I only own the plot, and the random (and will 99% be useless, pointless and die) OCs.

Chapter 1 - Switch and Kill

Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange never had an affectionate marriage; they only fornicated as per agreement, whether vocal or written, with any pureblood marriage for it is expected that the lines should continue with a strong heir to complete the contract. Aside from that note, it is widely known that Bellatrix was in love with Lord Voldemort, but whether Rodolphus held any feelings for his wife was unknown as the man was as talkative as a muggle statue. Some would say Bellatrix's pregnancy happened at a whim that perhaps Rodolphus did love his wife or at least held some sort of mutual feelings towards her. Others would whisper that they had consumed far too much fire whiskey during a raid celebration that ended the life of several politicians and well-known Light-lovers. When questioned, neither party member nor Rabastan would comment. Instead, they would redirect the conversation for something far more pleasant than pregnancy. For months, Bellatrix mumbled of having a little Death Eater running around the grand Lestrange estate, causing mayhem and chaos. In closed conversation, she chuckled at the thought of the child having Rodolphus's appearance, and their sadistic personalities; perhaps he would have her eyes.

Narcissa worried about her sister, and often spoke with the witch in the confines of a study or closed room; Bellatrix confessed to her sister of the abnormalities that were happening since the pregnancy began, but nothing was ever done about them. They were positive that the Black Blessing would protect her child. Never one to admit it except to his brother, Rodolphus was quite excited about his child. He hoped it would be male, and he would raise the child in the footsteps of pureblood traditions. He would train in the child in the Dark Arts and weaponry, Rabastan would aid in Defense and Transfiguration as Bellatrix would teach Dark Arts and dueling. This child would grow up to be very powerful under the directions of three powerful magical beings. Rabastan, five years younger than Rodolphus, was politely excited about his niece or nephew. It would not due for a pureblood wizard to be bouncing around as if he belonged to the Weasley family. As such, he was content to stand by with a smile on his face.

However, none of the three could predict that the pregnancy would go wrong at the point of labor. Despite the healers attending the estate, they had quietly and politely delivered that if Bellatrix and the child were to survive, the pregnant woman was to be transported to St. Mungo's because of the equipment and resources there. It is there that a tragedy happens that would not be resolved for a many years afterwards...

Bellatrix screamed once more, and pushed as hard as she could. Rodolphus stood at her side, his face expressionless although Rabastan could tell that his brother was worried. Blood leaked from the bed, and Rodolphus feared for his wife and child's sake by the scrunching of his eyebrows. A few hours, curses and death threats later, a disgusting creature was held in the healer's hands. It was wrinkly, red, and screaming; covered in blood and other bodily fluids - a baby boy. Bellatrix laughed softly in exhaustion at love-at-first-sight seeing her son.

"Let me hold my child," Bellatrix demanded although the delivery drained her of energy.

"I apologize Lady Lestrange, but we must make sure that the child will be fine given the difficulty of the birth," the healer spoke, fearing for his life. He knew the reputation of purebloods, and wanted the child to return to them as quickly as possible or else he feared for his staff. Handing the screaming baby to another healer who quickly exited, the male healer returned to Bellatrix to heal her of injuries. Rabastan stepped over to his brother, and whispered lowly to him.

"Congratulations, dear brother. May your son at least make you crack a smile," Rabastan said. Rodolphus raised an eyebrow at his younger brother almost questioning the joke. Rabastan observed as Rodolphus relaxed, and unnoticeable (by others) released a heavy sigh. Today, July 31st 1980, was going to be a day to remember.

The Baby Cleaning Room, down the hall and to the right of the Lestrange room, was supplied with muggle and wizard baby-safe products in case of inexperience healers or a surplus of children (and it had occurred before in 1943) being born. In the room, there were dozens of cribs of sleeping babies whose futures would be unknown, as they held no importance; whether they would die eventually, only the chuckle of Death would know. The healer, who held the tiny baby in her arms, quickly cleaned, and performed the numerous diagnosis checks to make sure the baby was fine. Smiling in confidence and years of experience, she wrapped the baby in a blue blanket, and slipped him in a tiny crib that stood left of another crib occupied with a baby boy as well. She spelled the nametag on the front of the crib to spell Lestrange before she walked out of the room to collect a few more things for Bellatrix's recovery. Kicking and blinking, the two baby boys were unaware of the danger that was to step forth.

Another healer, an intern female, quickly rushed into the Baby Cleaning Room, and accidentally knocked into the cribs, successfully detaching the nametag panels. One child began screaming, much to the embarrassment of the intern, and the other voiced a few newborn noises, but nothing as heart pulling as the other child. The intern blushed, and whispered smooth calming words, and soon the baby quit screaming. Sighing in relief, she peered down to see the name labels. Mumbling soft profanities, she picked them up, and attached them back to the cribs before departing in the other direction.

As she exited through the other end, a tall elderly man stepped forth. Dressed in crescent moon robes, he held a frown, and a heavy heart at the mission he must accomplish. For the greater good, he kept whispering to himself. No one was aware of his person in St. Mungo's, no one was aware of his objective, and surely no one knew what was to happen. In his past, he had performed the same technique, and nightmares continued to plague him resulting in his addiction to Dreamless Sleep potions.

"For the greater good," he whispered cheerlessly. He stopped in front of the two cribs where two baby boys laid next to each other. The left crib held the name _Potter_ and the right crib _Lestrange_. "This never gets easier. I wonder how Death takes the life of a child. Perhaps as heartless as the man I fight." Motioning his hand over the newborn in the right crib, he watched through half-moon glasses as the kicking baby took the effects of the spell. Within less than a minute, the baby slowly stopped kicking, and stared up with beautiful hazel eyes that faded of life at the man. The other child began screaming as he felt a disturbance in the air. "Guilt of this will kill me before age does." With that, he strolled out of the Baby Cleaning Room before anyone caught sight of him.

The intern rushed back into the room, towards the screaming child to investigate the matter. When her eyes landed on the dead Lestrange child, she burst into tears, and fell to the ground upon her knees. Nothing in the textbooks or lectures prepared her for the death of a newborn child who laid so still. Her heart clinched horribly, and she felt her lungs could not contain enough air despite the lack of knowledge of the babe. The healer from before entered quickly, and gently picked up the intern.

"He's dead Head Healer. Dead! I was in here only a minute ago, and the Lestrange child was fine. Now, he lies still in his crib!" the intern cried. The Head Healer peered solemnly at deceased child, and felt her heart clinch; this job never got easier. She leaned over, and gently closed the baby's eyes.

"We will inform the parents that the child died of biological causes. I will go apprise them now," the older woman uttered. "Deliver the Potter child to his parents. He is well enough to go home today." Potter continued screaming, and they figured it was because of the death of the other.

"At least one family will be happy." The other woman nodded before exiting. The devastating news of the death of a newborn, especially the first-born, was never easy, and her heart weighed heavily. However, it must be done. When she entered the Lestrange room, she calmed herself as the three Lestranges stared at her as she shut the door behind her. Bellatrix's dark eyes kept glancing between the empty arms and the melancholy mar of the Head Healer's face. The bed stood against the opposite wall from the door as several wizarding equipment stood by on either side, monitoring on how the young witch was doing; no needles or such was placed on her for such magical technology did not require such. Rodolphus stood to the healer's right next to his brother; the brothers stood near the right wall.

"I am sorry for your loss." Those six words, spoken so softly, smacked Bellatrix and Rodolphus in the face with a force that not even the Dark Lord's disappointing words could match. Uncharacteristic for a pureblood demeanor, Bellatrix begun howling in emotional pain. Fat tears ran down her cheeks, her face redden, and felt that this wound infecting her heart would consume her in grief and pain. Rodolphus fell to the floor on his knees, his head bent downwards as his mind raced to comprehend that his beloved son, heir to the grand name of Lestrange, pureblood supremacists beyond death, lied dead in some room that was occupied by blood traitors and muggle-lovers. Oxygen had been sucked from his lungs, and he felt his world still. Rabastan leaned against the wall, his right hand holding his head up. The death of his nephew could not compare to what his brother and sister-in-law felt nor would he voice it. While he still had a voice, he asked perhaps what the parents wished they never heard.

"How did he die?" Rabastan questioned, raising his head as his hand returned to his side.

"The baby died of biological causes," the healer notified. Something felt wrong. Bellatrix tore the sheets off her body, and slipped off the bed. She stood on her feet weakly, but she held herself like any dignified pureblood woman would.

"My baby did not die of such things. He was murdered!" she screamed, pointing her finger at the healer as if accusing the older woman of performing such a harsh crime. Rodolphus stood on his feet, and stared at the healer who felt a shiver run down her spine from the deathly gaze he was giving her.

"Please, Lady Lestrange, I swear on my magic that I did no such thing! I would never harm a child!" the lonely medical member took one-step back. She was no fool; she had heard the temper of Bellatrix Lestrange, and rumors circulating on how the Lestrange family proudly serves the Dark Lord. Rabastan stepped away from the wall, and pulled out his wand. His sister-in-law lowered her arm, breathing heavily as she was slowly recovered from the delivery and emotional pain.

"Do you think she informed Dumbledore of Bellatrix's birth?" Rabastan once more questioned. Rodolphus's eyes widen for a moment. "I would not put it past him or his Order to murder an innocent child to save the life of being a future Death Eater." Rodolphus glanced at his wife, her face red from the crying, but pale from birth. She needed to be returned to the Lestrange estate as soon as possible to properly recover; if one could from being told the death of their firstborn. He switched his gaze back to the healer; his fingers snapped in a sharp noise that caught the attention of those in the room. The Head Healer was suddenly slammed against the left wall, her spine making a cracking sound, and she slid down as the curse begun to take form. A cut formed from her belly button up to below her neck, blood soaking into her healer uniform. She would have screamed in pain if she could, but, alas, her throat and tongue begun to swell to a greater dimension forcing her head upwards as the organ moved upwards. Her chest cavity exploded as her inner organs too swelled like balloons, and forced themselves outwards through the deep cut. Tears fell from the side of her face as the Lestrange Curse begun its effect.

Suddenly, the door to the hospital room burst open revealing two Aurors. Rabastan cast a transfiguration spell that forced the door to become a harder material similar to steel. It wrapped itself around the two Aurors, and began crushing them before either one could raise their wand. Before anyone else could intervene, Rodolphus grabbed his wife, and Apparated; Rabastan quickly followed. Healers and several other authoritative figures appeared moments later, and managed to release the two Aurors before permanent damage was done; however, they were quickly checked over just in case. The intern from earlier slowly stepped into the hospital room. Her face was already pale from crying earlier, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. In the room, the Head Healer sat against the wall; her organs bursting from the pressure despite the corpse of its host.

In another room, two parents coddled their newborn son. They laughed and shared a priceless moment, hoping that the war would soon end.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Any thoughts, insults, death threats, comments, recommendations, or correction of grammar, please inform me of so. May the Force be with


	2. Draco Malfoy Recruited

Disclaimer: I do not own_Harry Potter_as it belongs to J.K. Rowling. I only own the plot, and the random (and will 99% be useless, pointless and die) OCs.

Author's Note: I have not yet decided on the final pairing. If you have any suggestions, please review on who. There are already several in mind, but pairings won't happen for a good while. I will be rushing through the first couple of years to get to the main plot.

Chapter 2 - Draco Malfoy Recruited

Harry Potter found little point in dancing along the cloudy path that was the past. He never knew his parents so their deaths had no effect on him except when he cursed their names for the treatment of his unbeloved relatives. There was not even the family love for his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley. No affection was ever granted to Harry even in the smallest of forms so he found no logic or reason to seek such an intangible thing from them. Instead, he merely made his existence after completing his chores until summoned further as that of a ghost. Vernon had mumbled about him, synopsizing his name with freak, abnormal and perplexing. There had been several undocumented cases where glass objects cracked when Vernon ranted about unnormality; those who were normal were the highest on the food chain he preached. One day, every window cracked, smaller fragile objects shattered past repairment, and the witnessing of Harry's small smirk struck more fear in the Dursley's glutton hearts than unclaimed false rumors of the family. After that, Vernon kept his ranting to a minimum, his tiny eyes darting at the windows to make sure they were not about to burst.

When Harry arrived at Hogwarts some months later, he did not fully comprehend the_love_and_devotion_the wizarding world held for him. He merely cast a bored expression at those who wished to swoon the eleven-year-old, and he escaped their presence before the urge to permanently silence the individual became too tempting. It was at the shock of the entire school (and outsiders who followed) that he was sorted into Slytherin. He quickly found companionship in Draco Malfoy, a first-year like himself, who was polite from the start before the acknowledgment of whom the boy sitting next to him was, on the train and at the house table. Harry found this pleasant, and silently hoped that a friendship would continue between them. Draco did not care for the fame and fortune that tagged along for he himself was a Malfoy (they already had plenty in their vaults and in the political arena). The first year was uneventful aside from Quirrell leaving for unknown reasons; Draco aided Harry in Potions who seemed to lack the proper skills in Potions-making, but the Malfoy heir had been taught by Professor Snape himself so teaching a fellow Slytherin was no problem. In exchange, Harry excelled at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and helped Draco who just needed a little extra practice.

It was to be the second year that Harry would notice a continued rift between the rest of Hogwarts' students and himself. Taking a detour down the a first floor hallway, Harry stopped in his strolling, and paused in front of what seemed like a vacant room. Draco halted, and turned around to face his friend.

"Harry, what is the matter?" the blond male questioned lightly. Harry glanced down the hallway, and felt secure that no one aside from the two young Slytherins were there. He marched forward, grasping a hand around the cold brass doorknob, and twisted it slightly to the right. A cricking sound echoed lightly as if the door had not been opened in quite some time as Harry pushed it open. Draco and Harry slipped inside, and quietly shut the door before anyone followed them in the room. "Harry, this is a girl's restroom. Why are we in here?" Malfoy had become accustomed to his friend's quiet nature. Potter would speak, but only around certain few people. Draco was the exception; he was always the exception. Harry was more open to the young male who had granted him the privilege of his first friendship.

"I don't know how to explain it Draco," Harry began, turning around to face the other. "It feels like there is something here. Something that wishes to escape, but is waiting for someone to open the door." Harry stepped over to the sinks, noticing how dry they were. "Like I'm walking in the footsteps of someone else who was here long ago." Draco shook his head.

"The only person who comes here is Moaning Myrtle. The bathroom is her namesake due to her death in here fifty or so years ago." Harry rested his right hand upon the edge of one sink, feeling the cold porcelain seep into his skin, and sucking his warmth. Absentmindedly, he glanced at the knobs, and noticed one of the sprouts was in the shape of a snake whereas the others were normal. He took note of it before his eyes unwillingly examined up into the mirror. Thick black hair slightly curled at the edges, but remained untamed no matter how much he tried to control it. His eyes were a bright green that absorbed the attention of the audience. The hair of his father and the eyes of his mother; somehow, that felt wrong, and almost backwards.

He looked to Draco, and felt the tugging of decisiveness to inform his friend of the snake sprout. He was so use to being by himself that it seemed illogical to start relying on another. Unconsciously, he brought his right hand up to grasp his chin as he pondered on it. Harry and Draco had a developing friendship; it did not resemble the girls who confessed their soul's desires and secrets upon the second day of their introduction, and they dismissed their relationship on the third. No, both boys were cautious when approaching the other, and they knew it would take years before complete trust could be fully gained.

"If we don't hurry, we'll be late for Transfiguration," Draco announced. This snapped Harry out of his thoughts, and both males exited the bathroom. Harry would return after dinner to investigate the snake sprout.

Harry had quickly discovered that house rivalry was as logical as the stereotypes the houses had placed upon each other. However, he could not stop himself from assuming that all Hufflepuffs were useless, Ravenclaws annoying after a period of time, but Gryffindors were the worst. They were loud, crass, lacked any sort of dignified manners, and were nothing more than headaches. There were few exceptions, but Harry peered down at them from his high station. He would never voice it, but something deep inside him whispered that Muggleborns and Half-Bloods were beneath him including the blood traitors.

He often heard his fellow Slytherin speak of the difference between Purebloods and Muggleborns which indulged him to do a vast amount of research. After an incident in first year where several fourth years ended up in the infirmary, no one dared speak ill of Harry's blood. Instead, they came to respect him, and often whispered to themselves the future the Potter heir held. Several times Draco had come upon Harry's figure resting upon volumes of the history of magical people, and it was always the difference between the blood types. Draco preached about blood purity, not knowing if Harry felt differently for the boy was always in deep thought as he absorbed the information. The Malfoy heir wished his friend was a Pureblood so he would be given opportunities that the other, weaker bloods could not.

It was after curfew when Harry snuck out under the concealment of the Invisibility Cloak. Nobody was aware of his presence so it was quite easy for him to manipulate the shadows to his advantage. The Prefects were on the other floors searching for out-of-house lovers in closets and such. With practiced ease from living with the Dursleys, Harry easily found himself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom staring at the different sink, his cloak folded neatly over his left arm.

"What are you doing here?" Harry turned around to face the voice. It was Moaning Myrtle herself, floating some ways behind him. He eyed her ghostly figure, and noted that even in death she was unattractive. Perhaps she too was a Muggleborn? It seemed that even death did not want her kind. He ignored her, and returned his attention to the sink. "Don't go near there!"

"And why is that?" the boy inquired, not particularly caring about the answer. He turned around once more to find fear had stricken her face. Humorously, Harry noted that it was the only attractive feature on her.

"Because there is a monster with great big yellow eyes where you are going!" she warned. "I looked at him, and poof! Next thing I knew, I was dead."

"And where do you suppose I am going?" He raised an eyebrow, hoping that she would reveal the answer to his curiosity.

"To a dark place that not even the ghosts are able to access. The last person who opened it hissed something, and the entrance opened up." Harry observed the sink once more, looking specifically at the snake.

"_Open_." Myrtle shrieked at the hissing, and floated back as the column sink and mirror was pushed away to reveal a dark passageway. She went into a frenzy, and plunged herself into her toilet in haste. "_Pathetic Mudblood._" Sighing lightly, Harry entered the passageway, and whispered the word 'closed' so that no one could interfere with his plans.

Every Slytherin knew that their house founder Salazer Slytherin could speak to snakes in the ancient language of Parseltongue. Harry has discovered his ability to speak it during a visit to the zoo with his bloated cousin. However, he never gave it much thought afterwards until one of the older Slytherins mentioned it in passing. Needless to say, Potter made a mental note of such until he could research into the four founders of Hogwarts. Upon his discovery of the fact, Harry's thoughts wandered towards the self-pity area of _why_ was the heir of Slytherin treated with such distaste, and forced to live with Muggles. Something wasn't right, but he had no proof or a direct or even half-possible conclusion to redirect his living conditions otherwise. After all, he was a Potter, a Half-Blood.

Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts as he stepped into what seemed like the main room of this secret chamber. He almost felt a chuckle erupt at the decorations and engravings of the multiple snakes; how cliche. The tension in his body eased, and he would almost admit that he felt completely relaxed in this secret chamber built by his house founder. Stepping further, he stopped when he was a good distance from the head of Salazer.

"_Open_," he whispered, half-convinced that nothing would happen. He was gravely mistaken. The lower jaw of Salazer's statue slowly declined until it was in the water. Harry peered into the entrance, and felt a sting of fear struck him. If he died then no one would ever discover his body as he had closed the only known entrance. He didn't have time to contemplate his possible death as something began slithering out of the mouth. Remembering what Myrtle had said about the eyes, Harry quickly shut his eyes, and tried to remain calm. This became a challenge when he heard the creature dipped into the water, and begun circling the poor boy. Harry felt its gaze upon him as it judged him worthy of being in this place.

"_The heir of my first Master has returned_," it hissed. "_Open your eyes my Master. No harm will come to you even if you stare into my eyes_." Slowly, Harry did as told, and craned his neck so he could gaze at the mighty Basilisk that coiled itself around Harry's person although there was no physical contact. Its skin was a gradient of dark green shades, starting from the head, and ended at the tail which was out of sight for Harry; the head was gigantic, and Harry - in dark humor - estimated that its mouth was wide enough to consume up to three normal sized people (or Vernon and Petunia) in one gulp. The eyes were a dark shade of yellow as if the light of life was dying in them. "_It has been fifty years since I have been summoned. Until Master Riddle returns, I will allow you to control me_." The Basilisk lowered its head until its nose was near the twelve-year-old. "_You are now my Master_." Harry felt nervous under its stare, but something in the back of his mind whispered seductively to not be; that what he was conversing with was a great beauty granted only to the heirs of Slytherin. "_Shall I finish what Master Riddle intended?_"

"_What did Master Riddle do?_" Harry was curious, unbelievably so. He wanted to know as much as possible about the Basilisk, and swore to devote tomorrow as it was Saturday to the entire collection of Hogwarts' library to discover more answers. It wouldn't do to inquire the Basilisk with the quantity of questions as with any Slytherin being direct with ignorance was a shame above all others. However, Potter could not detect any mention of a Riddle in his memory.

"_What Master Slytherin wanted from the beginning_." The Basilisk uncoiled itself. "_Sleep little Master. Come when you have discovered the answers to the questions you seek_." With that, it returned to its private chamber. Harry stood there for a good ten minutes, wrapping his mind around the fact that he could now control a Basilisk.

It took Harry a couple of hours to return to the main part of Hogwarts through several tunnels and trial-and-dead-ends before he found himself in the comfortable warmth of his bed just as the sun rose up. In the end, he found several entrances that would help him through sticky situations.

Draco stared at his companion with an irritated look. Harry was preoccupied with whatever thoughts, and not paying in the least bit of attention to his friend. It was lunchtime on a lovely Wednesday afternoon, several weeks after Harry visited the Basilisk; the Great Hall echoed with cheery laughter at jokes, and mumbles of gossip. Malfoy, sitting next to his friend on the right, refrained from pouting as his training as a Pureblood heir refused to let him do so. Rarely had Draco seen Harry in such a pondering state mostly because the coursework that was delivered for second years were easy; well, at least for Purebloods. Those who grew up in such promising homes were educated at an early age so the beginning years were smooth roads. Draco had helped Harry on any speed bumps the young male may have come across even if Harry would never verbally proclaim he needed help. Back to the matter at hand, Draco was being ignored, and poked Harry with the end of his fork. After two pokes, the black-haired twelve-year-old looked at the blond.

"Welcome back to the Wizarding World Harry. Care to give me an interview?" Draco asked in sarcasm.

"If it inquires about the heir of Malfoy's shopping habits I will," Harry began. "While he prefers any article of clothing that has dragonskin, I dare say it is due to his name relation to the dragon constellation, I will say that he enjoys shopping for dresses more than anything else." Draco's face flushed a deep red making Harry smirk in triumph. "It's a joke although you do enjoy shopping way too much for my taste."

"That's because you've never been with my mother and her friends. After a while, it rubs on you. Besides, you look like you need one. I've seen your normal clothing, and it is quite distasteful."

"Ah, but if I purchase anything else my cousin will steal it. I learned early on he hates anything that he doesn't have." Draco wrinkled his nose at the mention of the Muggle.

"Even Weasleys company would be better than that." Harry chuckled. "Are you going to tell me what you have been preoccupied about? I barely get you out of the library on Saturdays and Sundays. You fell asleep, again, I might add, on some more books about snakes and Salazar Slytherin." Harry smiled.

"I'm just interested in our house is all. The history and biography of Slytherin fascinates me. How can I claim to be a Slytherin without knowing at least the basic knowledge of our house founder? Do I look as ignorant as a Gryffindor?" Draco laughed, and had a difficult time keeping it low. "That reminds me, I have a question to ask you." Malfoy finally calmed down enough for him to raise an eyebrow his Slytherin house mate. "Do you happen to know anybody with the last name-"

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. Ron Weasley, a fellow second year in Gryffindor, burst in with all the blood from his face drained. Dumbledore stood from his spot, concern sketched onto his face.

"There's a snake in the castle, and it got Hermione!" the young boy screamed. Many students began to panic, and a few girls screamed. The teachers quickly rushed to their respected house tables except for McGonagall and Dumbledore. While the respective Heads tried to calm down their students, the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress spoke to Weasley. Even with the reassurance, the students could not help, but begin gossiping. Harry's eyes narrowed, and unconsciously put his finger to his chin in thoughts once more. Draco noticed, and noted that it was possible Harry knew something about the snake. It did not take long for Harry's concentration to focus on Draco once more.

"Draco, do you know anybody by the last name of Riddle?" Harry asked in a low whisper. Luckily the chatter would be able to drown out any nosey people who wished to peek in on the hushed conversation. Draco's face color drained a little at the name. "I searched all over the library, but could not find anyone with the name of Riddle. Even the yearbooks of the 1930s and 1940s are missing." Draco faintly nodded, leaning into his friend to whisper even lower so only Harry could hear as if they weren't the only people in the room.

"I heard from my grandfather that there was a young man named Riddle who went to Hogwarts between 1938 to 1945, and was beyond brilliant. Grandfather, in his later years when he slowly began losing his mind, spoke that Riddle would return, and restore the Pureblood ideals. He mentioned one time about a Chamber and a Basilisk, but I have no clue what he is talking about. Later, when I inquired of it to my godfather, Severus explained that in the 1940s, something dangerous was released, and began killing Mudbloods. They said it was Hagrid and his pet spider that did it, but Slytherins aren't stupid to believe such a thing. Whether or not Riddle did the killing I don't know, but Severus mentioned that the Chamber was never located despite numerous seekings, and only the Heir of Slytherin can open it."

It was easy for Harry to connect the dots as he was the only person to have opened it in fifty years explaining what the Basilisk had said. Did this mean Riddle had returned? If so, he would be over sixty years old, and no elderly person could stroll through the castle without somebody noticing and gossiping about such useless information. Harry looked up to see Dumbledore, McGonagall and Weasley gone. More information would be known soon, whether through Pansy Parkinson and her web or by investigation.

Harry discovered later that Hermione Granger had died that very afternoon; cause unknown. Ron and Hermione were heading to lunch when they heard a strange noise, and decided to investigate. Draco had commented that this is where Gryffindors died and Slytherins survived because of logic (or lack thereof). Upon witnessing a large snake's body, Ron began running in the opposite direction thinking that Hermione was behind him. However, it was not until he nearly reached the Great Hall that he discovered she wasn't. Ron was sent home to help recover as he was dealing with a tremendous amount of guilt for the death of his friend, and not saving her. Harry thought all Gryffindors had a hero complex or something of the sort; he felt no guilt or sadness at Granger's death - she was a Mudblood, and had died stupidly. However, Harry respected her because she was truly interested in learning. Headmaster Dumbledore made an announcement at dinner that nobody was to travel by themselves until the matter was resolved although students mumbled about being sent home early due to this threat. Professors and security were to roam the hallways at all times, and be aware of the student's whereabouts. Harry grimaced at the thought of being sent back to the Dursleys because of the incident, and decided to confront the Basilisk about it that night. That would mean successfully evading the spying eyes who meant well, but were in the way.

During his library investigations, Potter had come upon some useful information about the Basilisk who never mated with each other; he supposed they were incapable of reproducing on their own as they were not created by nature or magic, but pure experiment. According to _Hogwarts, A History_, the information about the Chamber, or Chamber of Secrets, was already there. Slytherin had made it, perhaps as a safe haven away from the Muggle and Mudblood lovers, and a sanctuary for true Purebloods. Headmasters and Headmistresses, respectively, had searched all over Hogwarts for years in search of the Chamber, but only Parseltongues could open it. However, there was a passageway that only Purebloods could enter. This caused Harry to pause at the information. If he himself was a Half-Blood then why was he able to enter the Chamber? Perhaps he needed to research his family tree, but something tickled at the back of his mind giggling at the uselessness of that. Any information that could have regarded this Riddle had somehow disappeared, and the thought of informing Madame Pince about it was out of the question; most likely she would tell Dumbledore on who was seeking such a closed case matter. Harry's eyes narrowed at the restricted knowledge. If Hermione was still alive, perhaps he could have somehow gotten her to request it since she was, keyword _was_, in good graces with the Headmaster.

In this particular copy of _Hogwarts, A History_, in the section of Salazer Slytherin, there was a note to the side in which Harry tore the page out.

Mudbloods poison the magic.

By next Friday afternoon, two more Mudbloods had died, and no one was the wiser on who or what. Hagrid was dismissed from his position as Care of Magical Creatures at the persistence of parents who remembered their parents speaking of the incidents in 1945. Harry decided to descend into the Chamber before anyone else could die. No, this was not a heroic trait, but rather a survival one. He refused to return to the Dursleys because some idiot decided to go around killing Mudbloods. While Slytherin accepted these killings, they'd rather not get the blunt of it. Many students, but the majority were in Gryffindor for the death of one of their own, were pointing fingers at the Purebloods who became appalled by such an accusation without proof. While the Snake House believed such, Snape had firmly placed that their ideals should never leave the common room for it was the safest place for them to express their beliefs. Anywhere else outside was dangerous for some Muggle-lover could overhear. Hufflepuffs were slowly mimicking the Gryffindors' antics. There were very few Ravenclaws who copied such an immature action, but the older years were wise enough to know that Slytherins would not do this - at least inside the school where the mention of the snake easily pointed to them. Roughly, the school was divided in half. Snape reassured the other staff members that his Slytherins did nothing of the sort, and if anyone would like to point a finger should provide proof. Sprout was bold enough to ask about the snake Ron had seen, and Snape narrowed his eyes. He said that even if a Slytherin did this, they would not have created a snake for the answer was too obvious for such a trait.

Harry slowly made his way through the damp passageway to the Chamber when he felt this odd sensation at the back of his head. Someone was here, in his private, secret and unknown spot, and this disturbed him more than anything. He opened up the gate to the main chamber, and all the logic in the world could not conclude to the standing of Ginny Weasley in Slytherin's private sector. Harry felt his eyes narrow at the blood traitor.

"_Those who do wrong against the Purebloods should suffer_."

Thank you Melikalilly and Salazar Severus Slytherin for reviewing!


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